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Darcy snatched at Luca's hand and stepped out onto the walkway.
'Who's that?'
'My sister Ilaria's old nursemaid. She will put Zia to bed and stay with her.'
'But I—'
As Luca urged her into the spectacular entrance hall, with its glorious domed ceiling frescoes far above, Darcy stilled. 'You can not live here—'
'My ancestors built the Palazzo d'Oro.'
Just as Luca finished speaking, a startling interruption occurred. Two enormous shaggy dogs loped noisily down the fantastic gilded staircase pursued by a shouting middle-aged manservant.
'Santo cieof’ Luca rapped out a sharp command that forestalled the threatening surge of boisterous animal greet¬ing. The deerhounds fell back, tails drooping between their impossibly long legs, great narrow heads lowered, doggy brown eyes pathetic in their disappointment.
The manservant broke into a flood of anxious explana¬tion. Luca turned back to Darcy, exasperation etched in his lean, strong features.
'What are they called?' Darcy prompted eagerly.
'Aristide and Zou Zou,' Luca divulged reluctantly, his nostrils flaring. 'They belong to my sister.'
'Aren't they gorgeous?' Darcy began to move forward to pet the two dogs.
As a pair of very long tails began to rise in response to that soft, encouraging intonation, Luca closed an arm round his bride to restrain her enthusiasm. 'No, they are not,' he stressed meaningfully. 'They are undisciplined, unbeliev¬ably stupid and wholly unsuited to city life. But every time Ilaria goes away, she dumps them here.'
As Luca's manservant gripped their jewel-studded collars to lead them away, the two dogs twisted their heads back to focus on Darcy with pleading eyes. She was touched to the heart.
'Axe you hungry?' Luca asked then. 'I couldn't eat to save my life.'
'Then I will show you upstairs.'
'If this is really your home,' Darcy whispered numbly about halfway up the second flight. 'That means...that means that you were the host at the masked ball.'
'You wouldn't let me tell you who I was. And since the ball invariably lasts until dawn, I could scarcely bring you back here for the remainder of the night. At the time, I had been using the apartment regularly while renovations were being carried out here.'
"There's so much I don't know about you—' 'And now you have all the time in the world to discover everything you ever wanted to know,' Luca pointed out in a tone of bracing consolation.
'I don't think I want to find out any more.'
'This has not been the most propitious of wedding days,' Luca conceded smoothly. 'But I'm certain you have the resilience to rise above a somewhat difficult beginning. After all, cara mia...I'm prepared to be very generous.' Darcy gawped at him. 'Generous?
'If you satisfy my demands, I will allow you to inherit that one million. I'm not a complete bastard. There are those who say that I am,' Luca admitted reflectively, 'and I would concede that I am no bleeding heart, but I am always scrupulously fair in my dealings.'
'Is that a fact?' Darcy passed no opinion because she didn't have the energy to argue with him. Passing down a corridor lined with fine oil paintings, Luca flung open the door of a superb bedroom full of ornate gilded furniture. One stunned glance was sufficient to tell Darcy that in comparison Fielding's Folly offered all the comfort of a medieval barn in an advanced state of decay.
'Your luggage will be brought up.'
'I want to see Zia. Where is she?'
'In the nursery suite on the floor above. Most mothers would be grateful for a break from childcare on their wed¬ding night.'
'What is with this "wedding night" bit you keep on mentioning?' Darcy enquired with stilted reluctance.
Luca treated her to a slow, sensual smile. Dark golden eyes of intent gleamed below luxuriant black lashes. 'You are not that naive. Whatever else you may be, you are still a Raffacani bride, and tonight in the time-honoured tradi¬tion of my ancestors we will share that bed together.'
Darcy thought about this nightmare day she had enjoyed at Luca's merciless hands. She studied him in honest dis¬belief.
'You should congratulate yourself.' His exquisitely ex¬pressive mouth quirked. 'Only the memory of that incred¬ibly passionate night we once shared persuaded me to go to the extremity of marrying you. The prospect of six sex¬ually self-indulgent months played a major part in that de¬cision.'
'I can imagine,' Darcy mumbled weakly, and she could.
Luca saw life's every event in terms of profit and loss. Almost three years ago he had suffered a loss for which he had falsely blamed her. Now he planned to turn loss into vengeful profit between the bedsheets. It was novel, she conceded. But for a rogue male to whom everything prob¬ably came far too easily, anything that supplied a challenge would always be what he wanted most.
Dear heaven, had she been that exciting in bed? She had been imaginative, she was prepared to admit, but that night had been a one-off. Heady romance, bitter rebellion and fiery desire had combined with champagne to send her off the rails. She had lived out a never to be repeated kind of fantasy and lived on to regret every single second of her reckless misbehaviour.
